


Braids

by junkyarddoll



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Anne/Max mentioned, F/M, Fluff, Hair Braiding, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 17:32:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13369686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junkyarddoll/pseuds/junkyarddoll
Summary: In which Jack absentmindedly braids the hair of those he loves while lazing around in bed and no one minds it.This is entirely because I noticed both Charles and Anne had braids in their hair but I doubted either would have done it themselves, Jack on the other hand I can entirely imagine braiding people's hair. After that the idea just wouldn't go away.





	Braids

Anne was still, quiet. Neither were unusual attributes for her but it was doubly true after a good fuck. The same could not be said for Jack. He was always restless bursting from the seams with movement and words. In the heat of the moment his silence and stillness might be bought for brief instant but it often departed just as quickly. Afterwards, Jack would lay beside her babbling about the crews, the future, whatever foolish thing Charles had done this week. His hands were often equally restless, carding through her hair the moment it was long enough again to allow it. She slept best like this, with Jack's words washing over her and his hands playing with her hair. So, it was no surprise it was not until later she noticed what his hands had been doing. Washing her face the following afternoon, she noticed a single thin braid amongst her hair on one side.

"Of fucking course." She mutters to herself as she caught sight of it in the mirror. Her lips pulling tight into a small smile before she finishes up and heads off in search of a meal. It never gets discussed, the next morning there is another, by the time they set sail next there are handful scattered throughout her hair. She doesn't mind it, a small reminder of the peace in those moments amongst the violence that is their lives.

 

It's a month later when she notices a number of new braids amongst the hair of the Captain. She cannot recall if she has seen braids in his hair before, but that seems irrelevant now they hold a new meaning and a resemblance to her own.

 The friendship of Charles Vane and Jack Rackham is one that made very little sense. The familiarity, trust and respect between two men like them, made no logical sense from a far and little more when up close. If you spent enough time with the two of them, you just came to accept it whether you understood it or not. Beside only a fool would voice concerns about the company Charles Vane chose to keep, doubly so when it was likely Anne Bonny was also standing nearby. Most just put it down to Jack being a more than capable quartermaster, which wasn't particularly wrong. However, Anne was aware of a level of intimacy that run much deeper than that between them. The particulars of how the peculiar arrangement between three them had formed are both hazy and irrelevant. Now that it is, it felt like it had always been and they never spoke about it. There is Anne and Jack, there is Jack and Charles, and there is Anne, Jack and Charles, in whatever formation they looked after one another; they had each other's backs. It was Anne and Charles who dealt with any problems Jack caused when he just couldn't keep his mouth shut.  It was Jack and Anne who looked after Charles whenever he got himself into a state because of something Eleanor had said or done. They patched one another up when required, Anne wasn't fond of anyone other than Jack touching her. Sometimes, Charles would walk in on Jack and Anne fucking, they had learnt to ignore him. And sometimes Jack and Charles would fuck, sometimes Anne was there, sometimes she was not. Anne knew without needing to ask that these new braids in the Captain's hair were result of Jack's restless hands.

 

 The ship is on its way back to Nassau, their last prize had provided good rum and a good fight. Anne was not surprised with what she found when she went to the Captain's cabin looking for Jack. She rolled her eyes and sat down in the corner with the bottle of rum she had found on the Captain's desk. She watched them quietly from her corner as they finished. In the afterglow Jack is thinking aloud about his plans for when they made port with Charles half dozing off next to him, nursing the bottle of rum having recovered it from Anne, who is now curled up on the other side of Jack with her red hair splayed across his chest. Jack had began musing about prices for supplies when his restless hands found their way to one of her braids, he is rolling the end between his fingers as if trying to decide if it needs to be redone. Charles notices,

"You fucking braiding Anne's hair as well now." He says with a snort, the interjection seems take Jack by surprise,

"Well, I- " He starts, but Charles ignores him, obviously not needing or wanting a response, instead continuing with slightly slurred words, 

"I suppose it's long enough these days." He takes a swig of the rum and runs his hands through Jack's hair affectionately, "You know, if you let this get a bit longer you could braid your own hair for a change, instead of bothering us."

"He ain't botherin' me." Anne mutters. Charles makes a noise and shrug that manages to convey his own indifference despite the comment. Anne rolls her eyes.

"I appreciate the suggestion, Charles," Jack says, regaining control of the conversation, "But I look entirely rubbish when I let it grow. I tried once, wanted the proper pirate look. Instead I look like a particularly unkempt dog if I let it get any longer." Anne makes a face, remembering that particular attempt. Charles takes another swig of the bottle amused. Jack continues with a wicked glint in his eye, "No, I think, it's best if I leave it to those of us with the lovely silken tresses, like yourself and Anne." Charles lets out a short burst of laughter, low and gravelly. Anne smiles silently to herself. In the same moment they both say,

"Fuck you, Jack." With the deepest affection in their voices. Charles tousles Jack's hair one last time, as Jack's begins talking about another unrelated topic. Anne drifts off, just as Jack's hands begins another braid in her hair.

 

In the course of a few months so many things had changed; it was hard to say what had stayed the same. They were richer than they could have ever imagined. There was talk of a war on its way. They were Anne, Jack and Charles again, but in an entirely new formation.  Anne's hair was clean and smooth, not a single braid in sight. Max liked to brush it out in the quiet of the evenings, but she never did anything else with it. Anne always refuses when she asks. Sometimes when Anne saw Charles she would notice a new braid in his hair. It reminded her of the old days with the peaceful moments amongst Jack's words and restless hands. One morning Max out attending to business, Anne sat alone in their room at the brothel.  Her hands play with a piece of her hair, idly wondering if she could braid it like Jack used to. She tries. It's not as neat as those made by Jack's nimble hands, she eyes her efforts unimpressed. Max won't be back until the evening, with nothing pressing of her own to attend to Anne goes off in search of Jack. He's not in the brothel, so she finds him in the fort, lamenting his new found fortune. He is complaining about workers set to repair the fort when he notices her poor attempt at a braid, a cacophony of emotions spread across his face. At first, for a brief moment he wonders if it is Max's doing, a flash of resentment. Then realising it is far too messy and untidy to be anything made by Max's hands, a bittersweet emotion floods him understanding this, could only be a gesture of Anne's. His face breaks out in a smile. When Max next brushes out Anne's hair she finds a single, small, neat and tidy braid. She says nothing as it disappears, brushed away by her steady hands. Anne doesn't mind, she knows it can always be redone.


End file.
